


Prisoner

by Slaskia



Series: Wreckers and Sirens [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, Imprisonment, Psychological Torture, Stockholm Syndrome, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaskia/pseuds/Slaskia
Summary: Wheeljack is captured by a group called the Sirens that want him to join them.  Can he escape before they break his will?





	1. Chapter 1

_ Era:  Early Age of Origins _

What happened?

He shook his head, feeling a slight ache in it. The last thing he remembered he was saying goodbye to a group of bots he was checking out, but decided they weren’t for him.  What did they call themselves?

Oh yeah.

The Sirens.

_ Guess the didn’t take kindly to me declining their membership offer. _  After another shake of his head to clear the last of the fuzziness in his processor, he took a look around.

The area immediately around him was only dimly lit by a single oil lamp that hung far above him.  A lamp that produced a lot of smoke, which filled the space with a haze that made it impossible to make anything out beyond his small circle of light.  He couldn’t even tell how big this room was, or what it was constructed from.

There were other clues though.  Ones only someone that had spent a lot of time in the underworld would pick up.  Someone like him.

Despite the smoke filled air, he could smell the faint muskiness of the air.  A staleness that told him air doesn’t move quickly through here or often. He was in a cave.   Underground. Likely one of caves he saw close to the camp he was visiting before his lights went out.  Close to the Sonic Canyons, if he remembered correctly.

Now he took stock of himself.

He was kneeling on the ground, his hands shackled behind him.  After shifting and twisting a bit, he could see those shackles were attached to a heavy stone via a heavy chain.  Chains tend to have weak links, so he wasted no time in testing them.

“Those were made by our bes’ smith,” a voice stated somewhere in the gloom.  It was gruff, but had that melodic accent to it that all Sirens seemed to have.   “You won’t be breaking them.”

He glared in the direction of the voice, optics squinting, trying to make out the speaker.  For a klik, nothing moved, nothing else was said. Then a silver and dark grey bot with black accents stepped into view, hands casually behind his back.  He wasn’t much taller than he was, but had the broad shoulders and heavy build of a miner. Red optics looked down upon him with an unreadable expression.  He thought he recognized him from among the bots in the camp, but he couldn’t remember if he had been told his name.

“Why am I in chains?” he demanded.  “What have I done wrong?”

The bot chuckled, a deep sound that echoed off the unseen walls. “You tried to leave,” was the simple, blunt, answer.

“So?” he retorted, testing his bonds.  “I didn’t like what I saw, so I have a right to leave and look elsewhere.”

“We do not invite bots into our camps on a whim,” the bot explained.  “When we invite someone, we’ve already decided we want them to join us.  Once you are in our camp...you are not allowed to leave until initiation is complete.”

He straightened up, his optics wide in shock.  “You’re saying I have no  _ choice _ in the matter?” he exclaimed.

“You have a choice,” the bot corrected.  “To join us...give yourself to us completely, or resist and suffer until we break you and make you join us anyway.  Either way…” He spread his hands, palms up with a smug grin. “We get you.”

“That’s not a choice at all!”  Somehow he managed to get to his feet, the chain now pulled taunt.  “I refuse to play this game!” With a growl he jerked at the chain, the sound it made reverberating throughout the chamber.  “You say I can’t break this!? Well, I’ve fought and won against the horrors of the underworld since I was a sparkling! I will break your chain!  Just wait and see! And once I do, I’ll kick every one of your afts!”

The bot looked at him with an expression of disappointment.  “Very well then. Stormburst.”

There was movement coming from his right.  Too quick for him to get a proper look at before something was put over his optics, robbing him of sight completely.  With a growl he threw himself backwards, hoping to catch the one responsible. He felt his back make contact with something, a crash of metal on metal punctuated by a startled yelp.  

The object, a blindfold, slipped down slightly, giving him a brief view of the first bot rushing him.  Before he could react, the bot had grabbed him by the head and started forcing him down to his knees with incredible strength.  He resisted that force, but he lacked the leverage to be effective and was eventually his chest was against his thighs, his face nearly in the dirt.

“Are you harmed?” the bot asked, concern in his tone.

“No, Steelstone,” a second voice responded.  “Was jus’ startled.”

_ Steelstone...now I have a name to your Pit damned face! _

“Good.”

Steelstone was keeping his weight on his head, while the other bot, Stormburst, fixed the blindfold, returning him to complete darkness.  Only then did that weight disappear. He immediately reared up, attempting to smack either of them with his body. There was nothing but air around him.  He growled with frustration.

“He strong one, my love,” Stormburst was saying.  “He make a good warrior...defender of our tribe.”

“I agree,” Steelstone replied  “I felt his strength. First, he mus’ be convinced life with us is bes’.”

“I will  _ not _ join you!” he snapped.

There was a dismissive snort.  “Those strong of body are weak in processor,” Steelstone countered.  “And we have convinced those of very strong will to join us. You will join us.  It is your fate.”

He heard the sound of two pairs of feet walking away, leaving him alone in the darkness and silence.  A low rumble growled from his intake, as he blindly glared in the direction he last heard them. If it were possible he’d burn away this blindfold with the intensity of his glare alone.

He will prove them wrong.   He was strong in both processor and body.  He will outlast them. He will find a way to break free.  Then he will make them pay.

Wheeljack was not a bot you pissed off and lived to brag about it.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a few cycles, according to his chronomonitor, and he was pretty much left alone.  Wheeljack heard a few come and go, but most of those were just there to give him energon. The first one did so rather roughly, nearly making him choke.  He showed his ‘appreciation’ by kicking the slagger into a wall. So satisfying.

Unfortunately, that resulted in his ‘arrangements’ being changed.  He now had his hands attached to chains above his head and his feet chained to the floor.  Wheeljack still had some movement, but not much. Certainly not enough to kick annoying bots into a wall again.  Still, the energon providers were gentle now. So, silver lining?

The other problem was that aside from his brief initial ‘chat’ with Steelstone, no one had spoken to him.  Or even  _ near _ him for that matter.  Whatever. If they want to play the silent treatment, so could he.  He had spent long stretches alone with no one to talk to in the past, no biggie.  Of course not being able to see anything added a bit more of a challenge, but he was up for it.

Though now he had a very annoying itch on his side that wouldn’t go away.  Now  _ that _ was borderline torture.  He wasn’t about to complain though.  Challenge bar was raised, that’s all.

Someone must have noticed his discomfort though, for one day someone actually started to  _ touch _ him.  Like they were examining him.  He growled and tried to move away from the touch.

“Still,” a silky melodic voice said.  “You have minor tick infestation.”

Well  _ that _ explains why he was itching like the Pit.  He grunted in confirmation, but said nothing and remained still as asked.  Wheeljack winced as he felt the little parasites were pulled off his frame one by one, bringing a small wave of relief each time.  Then he felt what was likely a salve to prevent infection being applied to the area.

“I’m surprised you slaggers care about whether or not I am infested,” he muttered under his breath.

“You member to be, your physical health is importan’ to us,” came the response. Sounded like the bot was checking the lamp above him.  “Bah, no wonder. Fools did not refill tick repellent.”

“Guess ya need to fire the bug bot,” Wheeljack snarked, then added with a snarl.  “So why so concerned about my physical health and not my  _ mental _ health.”

“For us, body is more importan’ than processor.”  He heard them rummaging for something. “Processor just tool for body to obtain what it wants... _ needs. _ ”

Wheeljack raised an unseen ridge at that.  “So ya all go by gut instinct?”

“Hmm...that one way to put it, I suppose.”  There was the sound of something being thrown into the lamp, almost immediately after, he could smell smoke.  Huh, he hadn’t noticed it was missing until now. So that was what it was for aside from making an ominous atmosphere.  “It’s more like we taught to listen to our bodies needs over anything else.”

He huffed with disgust.  “Then that makes ya barely more than mindless animals,” he retorted harshly.

“That’s not true!” the bot countered, sounding like they were right in front of him now.

“Is it now?” Wheeljack countered smugly.  “Isn’t that what an animal does? Operate by nothin’ but instinct?  No usin’ the processor to think critically with? You know...the thing that makes us actually  _ intelligent _ .”

“How dare you!”

There was a faint sound of what could have been an arm swinging back to strike, but that was followed by cry of surprise.

“You were not supposed to spea’ to him.”  That was Steelstone, his tone low and angry.  “You have delayed his progress with this foolishness.”

“I had to so I could treat him!” the silky voiced one countered, however there was no aggression, only fear in their tone.  “He kept moving!”

“No excuses!”  Steelstone snapped.  “You already under judgment for wha’ happened to your Chosen!  Do not make things worse for yourself!”

“Tha’ was not my fault….”  The other bot’s voice cracked with a sob.

“Enough!”

There was soft squawk and a scuffle.  Sounded like Steelstone shoved the other bot further away from him.  He could hear more soft sobs as they walked away.

_ So...they appear to be afts to each other as well. _  At least, Steelstone was an aft to silky voice.  What was that business about this ‘Chosen’ and what happened to them?  Perhaps, if silky voice is ever allowed to come back in here, he can try to find out.

After all, it sounded like Silky needed someone more sympathetic to talk to about their problems.  Perhaps, if he played things right, he’ll be able to convince Silky to help get him outta here.

\--

A couple of joors passed by and like before his ‘meeting’ with silky voice, no one spoke to or near him.  It was actually starting to bother him a bit. Probably because he had minimal stimulation from his other senses.  One could only amuse oneself for so long thinking up different ways to beat someone's aft. Or test the strength of the chain without wearing himself out too much.  Wheeljack did take advantage of what limited movement he was allowed to try to ensure his limbs wouldn’t be completely useless when he eventually break free.

By now he had noticed a pattern.  They came to feed him once a cycle, around breem thirteen of the day.  Around the time of Unicron, breem twentynine, someone came in to check the lamp.  Roughly every other cycle someone would add whatever it was they used as bug repellent to the lamp, which would increase the smell of smoke on his ‘room’.  How considerate they don’t want him to become tick ridden again.

That was the extent of what happened in his prison, at least.  Outside of it was a bit harder to determine. He would hear a lot of movement outside a couple of times a cycle, the first time about a breem before he would be fed.  Communal eating time perhaps? How quint.

He heard movement out there at other times as well.  Plenty of times. There didn’t seem to be a set pattern to it though, as far as he could tell.  He guessed there was a set patrol through this area, he just needed to figure out.

Wheeljack jerked his head up when he heard someone come in, his optics narrowing.  It wasn’t time for the bug bot and he already had his feeding for the cycle. He felt his frame tense with both excitement and a bit of apprehension.  Something new was about to happen. He was ready for it, whatever it was.

Whomever it was, walked in a slow methodical way, taking their sweet time to reach him.  Once they were close enough, he noticed the bot was humming some tune. They kept humming as they started to pass him, still walking in that slow, careful way.  Almost like they were strutting.

This was not the silky voiced one he encountered before.  Couldn’t be. The humming originated from a point that was easily a couple of heads taller than him.  Silky sounded like they only reached his mid chest. Couldn’t be Steelstone either. That bot didn’t have a light step like this one did.  Not to mention he didn’t seem to be the humming type. Stormburst perhaps? He sounded to be the same height as this one.

Regardless, what were they doing here?

Initially, he thought they were just after something else in the room, but then it became clear he was being circled.  Inspected. He resisted the temptation to growl or otherwise react to their presence. Didn’t want to give them any satisfaction if he could help it.

Yet he couldn’t help but flinch when the bot suddenly dragged a finger over his right shoulder.

“Tsk...filthy,” a familiar voice stated.  Stormburst. “White of your frame is now grey.  Do you even bathe?”

“A little hard when you’re all chained up and can’t move,” Wheeljack retorted.

“And you would not be chained so if you had not kicked poor Bloodsides.”  Sounded like he had stopped in front of him.

“And I would not have kicked ‘em if wasn’t trying to choke me with energon.  Actually, scratch that.” He leaned forward as much as he could. “It wouldn’t have happened if you fraggers had just let me leave!”

“Oh but you too precious to jus’ let go,” Stormburst’s tone was playful.  

Wheeljack heard him start walking around him, then stop just behind him.  He felt him drag the fingertips of his hands down his arms. Wheeljack shuddered involuntarily, those light caresses almost setting fire to his sensor net.

“You have impressive strength…,” Stormburst cooed, his voice close to his left audio.  “An equally impressive fighting skill. It be waste for another tribe or group to claim you.”

“Well that is my choice to make now isn’t it?” Wheeljack growled.  He threw himself back the best he could, hoping to hit him. However, Stormburst was expecting it this time.  He heard a bemused chuckle from further behind him, the bot apparently having jumped away from him.

“You will not get me like tha’ again, naughty one,” Stormburst chided.  He could almost imagine him wagging a finger at him. “And some choices are bes’ made by someone else.  By those tha’ know wha’ is bes’ for you.”

“Pft...and  _ you _ know what’s best for me?”  Wheeljack snarled. “You and your ilk barely  _ know _ me!”

“Tha’ is why I am here.” Stormburst was circling him again.  “Getting to know you.”

“Doin’ things a bit backwards, aren’t ya?”  Wheeljack rolled his optics. “The ‘dating’ part is supposed to happen  _ before _ getting the...hm... _ literal _ chains put on ya.”

There was a sharp laugh. Stormburst was in front of him again.  He felt a finger, which he now realized had a nice sharp talon at the end, lift up his chin.  

“A sense of wit!”  Stormburst sounded excited.  “We don’t have many of those.”

“Gee...I wonder why,” Wheeljack commented dryly as he jerked his head away.  There was a bit of pain from when his chin scrapped against the tip of the talon, but as far as he could tell, he wasn’t cut by it.  “Could have somethin’ to do with how ya treat ‘newcomers’.”

There was a faint snarl and Wheeljack smirked in satisfaction.  

“We do wha’ needs to be done.”  Came a blunt response as he heard Stormburst move back a bit.  “To make bots like you see wha’ is bes’ for you.”

“Listen, slagface,” Wheeljack snapped.  “The one that knows what’s best for me is...guess what... _ me _ !  Nothin’ you say or do will change that!”

Stormburst made a faint disappointed snort.  “It would appear you need some more time to yourself.”  His voice was definitely heading for the exit as he added.  “With time you will see you are wrong.”

Wheeljack growled at him.  

_ We will see about that. _


	3. Chapter 3

Two more joors passed with no one speaking to him.  It was starting to get on his nerves.  Did they seriously think giving him the silent treatment would make him go all warm and fuzzy for them? 

He kept himself occupied with the usual.  Flexing his limbs the best he could.  Thinking up new ways to beat these Siren’s afts.  Testing his shackles and chains for weakness.  Yeah, so exciting! 

His frame was starting to itch all over though.  Probably not ticks this time, as the bug bots were keeping to their schedule.  It was likely caused by soot from the smoke used to keep said ticks away.  Stormburst said the white of his frame was grey two joors ago, it was probably even darker by now.  Just how healthy was it for the residue of that stuff they used as bug repellent to stay on one’s frame?  Probably not very healthy, if the itching was any indication. 

Unfortunately, while he could somewhat scratch his ankles with his feet, that only made it worse.  Wheeljack would rather have the ticks.  It meant only one part of him was being itchy. 

Like with the ticks, someone apparently noticed his discomfort.  That, or they couldn’t stand looking at his filthy, soot covered aft anymore. 

One cycle, shortly after he was fed, he heard two rather heavy stepped bots come in.  He felt one of them grab him by the arms, while the second moved passed him and undid something on the wall behind him.  The sound of the chain suddenly being released permeated through the chamber for several nanos and he felt the chains go completely slack on his arms. 

His first thought was the struggle, to fight.  However, his arms, due to having been hung in the air so long, were numb and stiff, despite his flexing exercises before.  What strength he had was easily countered by his captors.  He could do nothing as he heard them remove the shackles and replaced them with he assumed to be normal cuffs.   

Embarrassingly, his legs were in a similar state, due to having been standing for so long.  He had to be almost held up by one of the bots while the other removed the shackles there.  Then he was partly shoved, partly carried forward.  Wheeljack did his best to comply, as he’d rather walk under his own power than to be carried like a cripple.  

He wasn’t very successful at first, due to his legs not remembering that ‘hey, I’m used for walking!’ at first.  After a few kliks, they got the message and he could more or less walk on his own.  Bolting was out of the question, however, as he had no idea where he was. Plus he was still blindfolded and had two strong bots holding his arms.   

_Where are they taking me?_  

As far as he could tell, he was still underground, though he hadn’t heard anyone else.  He tried to keep track of path, but that was difficult when blindfolded.  Eventually his little trip came to an end. 

There was definitely the sound of liquid here.  He could smell it somewhat.  There was a hint of steam as well.  What was this place?” 

Then his escort suddenly lifted him up, only to put him down again rather quickly.  Instead of dirt, he felt metal under his feet now, slightly wet metal.  He was starting to get a better idea of what was going on, but he was still mostly clueless. 

Wheeljack grunted in pain as his arms were forced above his head, his shoulders in particular protesting the sudden movement.  He heard them attach chains to his cuffs, then he felt new shackles being attached to his feet.  Wheeljack tested his new restraints:  he had even less movement now, wonderful. 

“We will return in a breem,” one of his escort stated, the sudden sound making him jump slightly.  “Be sure you are done by then.” 

That meant there was at least one other bot in here besides himself and his two escorts.   Escorts he now heard leaving.  Only once those heavy footfalls were distant did he hear the first indication of the other bot here.  It was a long sad sigh, like the bot wasn’t happy with their situation. 

_You and me both._  

There was the shifting of feet behind him.  Then a soft grunt accompanied by the faint sloshing sound of liquid.  He yelped, beside himself, in surprise when _something_ was poured over him. It was lukewarm and easily got into every crevice of his frame as it moved down his torso.  At least he could smell it more clearly now. 

Solvent. 

_I’m being washed?_  Wheeljack felt both relieved and apprehensive. 

The other bot sighed again, this time it sounded more annoyed.  He heard them move something closer to him, swish something around in more liquid, likely solvent, then step onto something.  He flinched when something warm and wet touched his left arm. 

“I will not harm you,” stated a familiar voice.  It was Silky.   “Just relax.” 

“A little hard to do that when I’m strung up like some offering to Unicron, Silky,” Wheeljack grumbled. 

“‘Silky?”  The bot sounded confused and shocked at the pet name he gave them. 

“You haven’t told me ya name and your voice sounds silky, so I’m callin’ ya ‘silky’,” Wheeljack explained with as much of a shrug as he could. 

There was a few nanos of silence, Wheeljack wishing he could _see_ the look on the bot’s face right now.   Then there was a faint ‘huh’, which probably amounted to a ‘whatever’, before they started to rub what felt like a rag down his left arm in firm, but gentle, strokes.  They were being thorough, making sure to get into most of the seams and crevices as they worked.  Rather quickly too, as soon enough they were washing his shoulders and neck.  Stopping briefly only to rise out the rag in the tub of solvent he figured was close by. 

Occasionally he would hear them pick something up and put it down again a short distance away, then step up on it.  A stool he guessed.  Made sense, as Silky did sound like a rather small frame.  It was then Wheeljack remembered he was going to try to get more info out of this one. 

“So, ya no longer a tick remover?” he asked.  “Or was that always one of your duties here.” 

There was a noticeable flinch in the other bot’s movements as they started on his right arm.  “My function has always been to relieve discomfort,” came a guarded response. 

“Really?  So ya a medic of some sort?” 

There was another flinch in the movement of the rag, then a pause.  Nothing happened for several nanos.  “Was.”  Finally came the answer, Silky’s tone hesitant and sad.   

The rag was being moved with a bit more haste, his right arm done and they were now working on his back.  An uncomfortable subject it would appear.  So he pressed. 

“‘Was’?”  he echoed.  “Not any more eh?  Suppose it had to do with this ‘Chosen’ thing Steelstone talked about?” 

No response, at least of the spoken kind.  That rag stopped again and he thought he heard a shuddering sigh.  Definitely an uncomfortable subject, but he didn’t want Silky to clam up on him completely.  So he changed the topic slightly. 

“I heard that term before…’Chosen’...what exactly does it mean?” 

Silence, but the rag was moving again.  Sweeping broad, but thorough, strokes up, down and across his back.  They stopped only to rinse out the rag in solution before continuing again.  There was still no response when his back was finished and they moved on to his right side. 

“Silky?” he queried, fearing he may have ruined his chance. 

“A Chosen is our partner, bondmate,” Silky finally responded, their tone soft and quiet.  “It is believed we are incomplete without one.  Those of age are encouraged to find one, thus prove their worth and standing in tribe.” 

“Is that why I’m bein’ put through this?”  Wheeljack asked, a bit of harshness in his tone.  “Because someone decided they wanted me as their bondmate?” 

“If tha’ was the case, they would be in here constantly, speaking to you...wooing you,” Silky responded. “No...you are here because they see your potential and wish to see you fulfill it.” 

“On _their_ terms…,” he snorted. 

“So long as you follow our rules and traditions, nothing bad will happen.”  They were starting his chest now.  “It would be same in other tribes, no?” 

“I don’t think there are many other tribes that torture bots that decide they want to try someplace else,”  Wheeljack snarled. 

“This?” The rag was slapped against his chest lightly.  “Is torture?” 

“By itself? No,” he admitted.  “Along with everything else?  Yes.” 

“I am sorry you think so.”  Silky was being a bit quicker now with their washing again. 

“Humph.”  Wheeljack decided to go back to the original topic.  “So, you lose your Chosen, you lose your status or somethin’?” 

There was that flinch and pause in movement again.  “Depends on how one's Chosen was lost….”  Silky’s tone was soft again.  “A preventable death...can reflect poorly on widow.” 

He narrowed his optics, recalling the conversation between them and Steelstone.  “Even if it wasn’t your fault?” 

It wasn’t just a flinch this time, but a shudder.  He heard a soft sob as the rag stopped on the left side of his chest.  Wheeljack felt their hand clench and something clink against the middle of his chest.  Silky’s head?  Were they leaning against him? 

“Hey?  You OK?” he asked, keeping his tone soft. 

The light pressure he felt on his chest disappeared.  “Do not concern yourself with my fate,” Silky responded, tone tense as they moved on to his left side. 

“Look,” Wheeljack insisted.  “From what I overhead last time you were visiting, the other’s don’t give a pit about your side of what happened.  I may not be able to do anythin’ about it, but I can at least be a willin’ audio for ya.” 

He felt the rag leave his body completely.  For over a klik he didn’t hear or feel anything.  Silky was still _there_ , that he was certain, as he didn’t hear them move.  No thanks to the blindfold, he could not see Silky’s expressions, thus had no idea what they may be thinking or feeling.  He hoped they were at least considering his offer. 

“This conversation is over.”  Silky had spoken in quiet, but firm tone.  He felt the rag on his side again, finishing there before starting on his hips and abdomen.   

_Scrap, pushed too far._  

“Look,” he started his tone soft and apologetic.  “I didn’t mean to-” 

Something was suddenly shoved into his mouth.  It was soft, wet and tasted like shit.  He nearly gagged. 

“I said _over,”_ Silky growled quietly into his audio, though their growl almost sounded like a purr.  He also caught a faint hint of panic in their tone. 

That was when he finally heard what Silky must have.  Footsteps.  Slow, methodical footsteps approaching. 

“Oh he looks so much better already,” he heard Stormburst purr.  “But why is there a sponge in his mouth?” 

“He talks too much,” Silky responded, their tone slightly bitter. 

“Ah, I understand.  He does have a mouth on him.”   

He heard Stormburst circling him again.  Wheeljack growled at him the best he could with the improvised gag in his mouth.  He felt him run a finger down his shoulder. 

“Seems your retraining is going well,” Stormburst sounded pleased.  “However, I can tell you are rushing.” 

“I was only given breem to wash him,” Silky muttered. 

“That is sufficient time!” Stormburst scowled.  “A bot can wash themselves fully in less than half tha’ time!” 

“Most bots are not covered joors worth of _filth_!” 

There was an audible stomp of a foot from Stormburst.  It echoed sharply around the chamber.  

“Do _not_ talk back to me,” Stormburst growled.  Wheeljack heard him approach them quickly.  “Remember your place!”  He heard Silky whimper. 

It was purely instinctive, but he _tried_ to get between them. Yeah, not happening when he’s all strung up like a sacrificial offering.  All he managed to accomplish was make a lot of noise with chains rattling from his attempt.  Embarrassing. 

“Oh ho ho…,” Stormburst cooed. “Got a protective side to you.  A defender of the weaker?  Less fortunate?”  

There was bemused chuckle as he felt a finger caress his cheek.  Wheeljack moved away from the touch and glared in his general direction.  This seemed to only amuse Stormburst more. 

“That will be very beneficial for us,” Stormburst churred, stroking down the length of his head crest in almost a mocking way.  “Once you learn your place.” 

Wheeljack growled as fiercely as he could in retort, then tried to headbutt him.  He hit nothing but air. 

“Nice try!”  Stormburst laughed.  Then his tone turned serious.  “Finish your task and be sure you do it right!” 

“Yes, Stormburst….” Silky replied meekly. 

“Beg your pardon?”  There was dangerous edge to Stormburst’s tone. 

“Yes, _Overseer_ Stormburst,” Silky responded, louder this time.  There was a grunt of acknowledgement from Stormburst and he heard him start to walk away, but not with the slow methodical walk this time.  This time, it a firm step that carried the weight of authority. 

_So...that one is pretty high up on the pecking order._  Wheeljack wondered where Steelstone was on the rank list.  Considering he caught Stormburst referring Steelstone as ‘my love’ on his first cycle here, it was safe to say those two were bondmates.  And due to that, Steelstone likely had an equal, or perhaps greater, rank than Stormburst. 

Silky, whom had started washing him again at a frantic pace, appeared to be low on the rank list.  At least now.  Medics were usually considered quite important, so to be reduced to such a low position must have been a great blow.  And because of something that was beyond Silky’s control it sounded like.  Poor bot. 

A couple of kliks after Stormburst left, that sponge was finally pulled from his mouth. 

“Ugh...nasty,” Wheeljack gagged, spitting a couple of times to get the taste out.  “I’m assumin’ we weren’t supposed to be talkin’ to each other.” 

“You are correct…,”  Silky answered quietly, now working on his legs. 

“You’re in enough trouble as is...why risk indulgin’ me?” 

“I’m lonely….”  There was sad sigh.  “No one talks to me now...unless it’s an order...or scolding.” 

“Oh.”  He really didn’t know what else to say.  At least right now. 

They were both quiet for the next klik or so while Silky finished with his legs.  Then Silky used the stool so they could reach his head.  It was while they were washing what part of his face they could that he got more of an idea of what they looked like. 

Hands felt small, fingers long and pointed.  He thought he caught a glimpse of silver past the bottom edge of the blindfold.  It completed a bit more of the picture that was Silky in his processor.  Still so much he didn’t know though.   

After a few buckets of solvent were dumped over him for a ‘rinse’, Silky asked.  “Is any place tha’ feels itchy?  Irritating?  I think I have time for touch ups before drying.” 

There were a couple of spots, but they were minor compared to what he felt before.  “There is, but I’d rather ya not push your luck,” he told them.  “I’ll endure it.” 

“You are sure?” 

“I am.” 

“Very well.” 

The drying was done in silence.  Just as well, as his two escorts arrived just as Silky finished.  As taken back to his ‘room’, he found himself wondering if he would meet Silky again. 

In the back of his processor was a tiny voice warning him that this could all be just an act….


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack turns up the snark.

It was only a couple of cycles before Wheeljack had a talkative visitor again.  Unfortunately, that visitor was Steelstone. At least there was no guesswork on what _he_ looked like, as he got to see his ugly mug before he was blindfolded.

“Comfortable?” the miner bot asked.

“Oh very!”  Wheeljack replied sarcastically.  “I must commend the accommodations here.   I give it a ten outta ten!”

There was faint amused snort.  “Stormburst told me you had bit of wit about you,” Steelstone commented.  “He wasn’t kidding.”

“My wit can be as deadly as my fists,” he commented with a smirk.

“Wit is means of coping with stress,” Steelstone retorted.  Wheeljack could hear him step closer. “You’re not doing well.”

“Well _gee_ I wonder why?”  Wheeljack growled.  “Could be somethin’ to do with being chained up, blindfolded and isolated for _cycles_ at a time!”

“And you could have avoided this by simply saying ‘yes’,” Steelstone pointed out.

“Or ya could have been _not_ a bunch of afts and learn how to take ‘no’ for an answer,” Wheeljack countered.

“A Siren always gets wha’ they want.”  

Steelstone sounded like he was right in his face.  He quickly drew back his head for a headbutt, but suddenly felt one of Steelstone’s large hands grab him by the headcrest.  His head was forced to look upward, past the point of comfort. Wheeljack gaped from the pain.

“No matter how long it takes…,” Steelstone continued.  “Or wha’ method we have to use.”

“So you are not above using physical torture,” Wheeljack grunted.  “Good to know….”

“Continue to resis’...and you may start to taste it.”  

Finally he let go of him and Wheeljack was able to put his head back down. He rolled his head a bit to ensure his neck joint wasn’t dislocated.

“I’ll join the Allspark before joining you,” Wheeljack scowled.

“Unfortunately for you, we avoid killing others.”  Steelstone sounded smug. “So we would keep you alive until you submit.”

Just then, an audio piercing scream echoed into the chamber.  Wheeljack felt a shudder go down his strut.

“Don’t kill eh?” he muttered.  “That sure sounds like someone is gettin’ scrapped to me.”

“Pfft...impatient,”  Steelstone sounded amused.  “I asked them to wait for me before branding.”

That made Wheeljack perk a ridge.  “‘Branding’?” he echoed.

“Final step to becoming member,” Steelstone replied proudly.  “When bot is fully integrated, they receive our tribe brand on their frames.  Moment of celebration for tribe.”

“Oh I’m sure stripping a bot of their sense of free will is a _wonderful_ cause for celebration!”

He felt pain across the left side of his face, his head thrown to the right.  Wheeljack cried out in shock and pain. The bastard had struck him!

“Your sense of ‘wit’ is starting to get tiresome,” Steelstone growled.

“And that is why ya don’t have bots with a sense of humor around here,”  Wheeljack snarled. “Ya beat it out of them.”

He heard a deep growl and he braced himself for another blow.

“Steelstone.”  That was Stormburst, calling from the entrance.  “We have potential situation.”

“What is it?” Steelstone asked.  There was still a faint growl in his tone, Wheeljack couldn’t tell if it was due to his irritation toward him, being interrupted or what this ‘situation’ could be.

“Scouts spotted group of bots not half cycle from camp,” Stormburst replied, sounding closer.

“What group?”

“Unknown.  They fly no banner.”  Stormburst sounded to be right next to Steelstone now.  “Could just be group of travellers.”

“Or new Razer trick,” Steelstone growled.  “Has Chief Cliffwing and Baron Tigercloud been informed?”

“They have.  Entrusted judgment to you, my dear.”

There was a soft grunt of acknowledgement and a brief moment of silence.   “Tell scouts to keep watch and have defenders on alert. No one to leave camp unless absolutely necessary.”

“Understood, High Overseer.”  It was hard to tell, but Wheeljack thought he heard a sweeping motion, like Stormburst was bowing.  Then he heard the bot turn and leave.

_So I was right.  Steelstone is higher upper._  Pretty high if their leadership trusts him with camp defense.  He filed that away for later, along with the names of their leadership.

“Possible Razer problem?”  Wheeljack asked, his tone teasing.  “They tried to recruit me too. I answered their ‘offer’ with a punch in the face.”

“And I agree with your response to them,” Steelstone said.  “The Razers are nothing but savages with no sense of civility.   They just take wha’ they can and destroy wha’ they cannot.”

“This…”  Wheeljack rattled his chains.  “Is being ‘civil’?”

“Civilized society needs rules to function properly,”  Steelstone countered.

“Yeah, I get that.  The problem I have is that the only ‘rule’ I broke here is that I didn’t want to join.”

“Wha’ bots _think_ they want is not always wha’ they _really_ need.  Not everyone knows wha’ they need to reach their full potential.  A need we can provide.”

“And you have no right to take the choice of how I figure what I ‘need’,” Wheeljack growled.

There was a chuckle.  “And by whom do you get tha’ right?  By wha’ authority?”

Wheeljack blinked.  He didn’t know how to answer that.  Steelstone knew it too.

“Rights can only be given by those in power.  Those in power are rulers of any given society.  You are in _my_ society now, Wheeljack….”  He felt him grab his head crest again and his gruff voice spoke right into his left audio in a harsh whisper.  “And right now, in my society...the Sirens...you _have_ no rights other than to eat and live.  Everything else we give you...is simply courtesy tha’ we can take away any time.”

“And if I be a good bot and play by your _rules_ I get more rights….”  Wheeljack muttered.

“Precisely.”

“Frag you.”

There was a snort and Wheeljack felt him let go of his head crest.  As tempting as it was, he didn’t try to head butt him, as he knew he wouldn’t hit him.

“Continue to suffer in isolation then.”  Steelstone stated, his tone one of disappointment.  “You will see reason, soon enough.” Heavy footfalls told him Steelstone was walking away.

_Like the Pit I will see ‘reason’.  Not in this twisted place!_

The problem, was that he was starting to doubt he would be able to free himself and escape before they _did_ break him….


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to change....

A joor passed.  Then two, then three.  Then...frag he was starting to lose count.  Sure he had a chronometer in his head, but when he had nothing new to stimulate him, things started to blur together.  He barely noticed the daily feedings, as it was so routine now that it did nothing for him. Same with the ‘bug bot’ visits.  The sounds beyond his prison no longer kept his attention.

He was starting to itch again, but even that wasn’t enough.  Wheeljack’s thoughts were starting to become disorganized, random, without anything new to keep him focused.  He was starting to lose it.

Then, he got a saving grace.  A metaphorical light in the darkness.

Wheeljack was in recharge when they came in, late one night.  He jerked awake when he felt them shake him gently.

“Huh? Wha?” he muttered, his processor all fuzzy.  “Whatisit?”

“Shh…,” a familiar, but welcome voice soothed.  “Not so loud.”

He blinked several times, then shook his head to wake himself fully.  “Silky?”

“Yes,” came the soft response.

“Ya suddenly allowed to talk to me?” he asked, not sure if he was dreaming or not.

“No, they do not know I’m here.”  They sounded silently nervous.

“Wha da ya doin’ here, then?”

“To talk.”

“Huh?”  He blinked a few times, confused.

“You told me you’d be willing audio…,” Silky reminded him.  “I...find myself needing tha’ now.”

Wheeljack  _ really _ had to think a moment to remember that.  “Oh, yeah. I did.”

He felt a hand lightly touch his face.  Wheeljack leaned into it, the touch feeling so warm, welcoming.

“You not well...you’re not like you were las’ time….” There was concern in their voice.

“Th-this is startin’ to affect me…,” Wheeljack admitted with a sigh.  “The constant isolation is...too much. Is this what they did to you when you joined?”

The hand left his face and there was silence for a couple of nanos.  “No. I’ve been here since I was sparkling.”

That got his processor going a bit.  “So ya know nothin’ on what it’s like outside the tribe?”  he asked. “Never set foot outside these walls?”

“I’ve been outside,” Silky corrected.  “I was herbalist. Tasked with collecting and preparing materials for treating sick and injured. Tending minor ailments and injuries.”

“That’s a pretty important job…,” Wheeljack stated.  “Yet they…’retrained’ ya out of it. Why?”

“Because I was blamed for loss of my Chosen….”  Their tone was sad and bitter.

Wheeljack tightened his lips, his optics narrowing.  He remembered the conversation between them and Steelstone the first day he met Silky.  “What happened?”

“Numbing sickness…,” they responded quietly. “I was not trained to recognize early signs.  Robbed him of feeling...then movement. By time I realized wha’ he had...it was too late.”

“I’ve...heard of that,” Wheeljack admitted.  “Called  _ toidysos _ in other places I’ve been. Nasty virus...difficult to treat in even early stages from what I’ve heard.”  After a pause he added. “You should not have been blamed for that….”

“I know.”  There was a frustrated sigh.  “If he was not my Chosen I would have been forgiven.  But he was….”

“That...doesn’t make sense.”

“As bondmates...we’re supposed to know everything about each other.  Be firs’ to know when they are sick or otherwise,” Silky explained. “They don’t understand tha’ bondmates can still hide things from each other.  Mine did...I suspec’ out of pride.”

“Bonding only shows ya things up to the point of the meld,” Wheeljack muttered.  “It’s not like a...continuous connection thing. Bots have to  _ chose _ to let ya feel what they are feeling.”

“Exactly.”  There was couple of nano’s of silence, then they asked.  “You were bonded?”

Wheeljack chuckled and shook his head.  “Nah. Knew bots that were though.”

“I see.”

A moment of silence passed before Wheeljack spoke again.  “Ya holdin’ up OK, Silky?” he asked. “I know you said ya don’t really have any friends now...but...at least they supported you at the funeral?”

There was a bitter sounding snort.  “He failed Tes’ of Primus...moment they knew he was gone, they dumped his body in canyon.”

Wheeljack stiffened in shock, not wanting to believe his audios.  “Wh-what….” he breathed. “No funeral...no lettin’ ya at least say goodbye?”

“No….”  Was the soft, mournful response.  “I...didn’t ‘deserve’ to….”

Rage swelled up in him, a deep growl emitting from his intake.  “That’s wrong,” he snarled, his frame tensing more and more. “Your fault or not...they should’ve at least let ya say goodbye...get  _ closure _ .”

He yanked down as hard as he could on the chains holding his arms.  The hard clanking sound that resulted reverberated loudly through the chamber and beyond.  He heard Silky gasp in surprise, perhaps a bit of fear as well.

“C-careful…,” Silky whispered.  “You supposed to be recharging righ’ now...I’m not supposed to be in here at all….”

“Sorry…,” Wheeljack sighed, letting himself go almost completely limp in his bonds.  “I just…” Primus he felt so tired right now: his little fit took more out of him than it should.  “The more I learn about this place...the more I hate it.”

“Are you alright?”  He felt them put a hand lightly on his chest.

“No…,” he admitted.  “My body...it’s getting weaker.  The lack of movement...barely enough energon to keep goin’....”

That hand moved to his face and once again he leaned into it.  “Save your strength then…” Silky told him softly. “You will need it.”

“Yeah...I know.”

“I should go now.  I’ll visit you again soon….”

“I look forward to it.”

“So do I….”

Wheeljack listened as they left, leaving him alone once again.  Beside himself, he whimpered softly at their departure. This place...this treatment...was really getting to him, despite his determination.  Silky was probably the only one keeping him from breaking completely now.

He hoped they would visit again sooner rather than later….

\--

They decided to wash him again a couple of cycles later.  More for health reasons than for his fraying processor no doubt.  Still, he didn’t mind being able to walk around bit, though it took longer for his legs to get the message this time than last.

Wheeljack was fairly certain Silky was there, but they were being quiet.  He quickly discovered why: there was another bot with them helping wash him.  Frustrating. Still, he thought he’d have a bit of fun.

“So,  I’m too much bot for just one of ya this time?” he snarked as he felt them work both arms and sides.  On his right he thought he caught a faint muffled giggle. The one of his left, however, was definitely not as amused.

“Silence, initiate,” an unfamiliar voice snarled.

“Oh come on,” Wheeljack mock whined.  “I spend my cycles in silence with no one to talk to and I finally have bots to talk to!”

“I said no talking!”

“OK, I’ll sing then.”  In a very bad singing voice he started.  “Nine-nine cubes of energon on the wall, nine-ni-mmmphf!”  He suddenly had something shoved into his mouth. Felt like a sponge.  At least it  _ tasted _ cleaner this time.

“Ugh...did he do this las’ time?”

“He talk lots but no bad singing.”  Yep, that was Silky.

_ Oh come on, my singing ain’t ‘that’ bad… _  OK, maybe it was.  Still he grunted in protest at the insult.

“Pfft...he been in treatment this long and he still acts up?” the other bot was grumbling.  “Unusual.”

“Guess some are stronger willed than others,” Silky suggested.

“Perhaps.  He’ll submit soon enough, then remolded.”

_ Frag that.  _   Wheeljack shifted himself toward that bot as fast and hard as he could.  He connected and he heard the satisfying sound of the bot landing on his aft with a startled yelp.  Though difficult with the sponge in his mouth, he still managed a cocky grin and a deep chuckle.

The number of swear words that came flying his way made him chuckle even harder.  Silky sounded like they were trying their hardest not to laugh.

“Are you harmed?”  Silky half giggled.

“I’m fine…,” the other bot snarled, accompanied by the sound of him getting up.  “Not tha’ your concern means much...Chosen killer.”

Wheeljack stiffened and he felt Silky do the same.

“I did not kill him,”  Silky stated flatly, though Wheeljack could hear the hurt in their tone.

“Directly, no...but your lack of attention did.”

“And you know nothing on how bonds work!”  Silky retorted hotly. “Half-spark!”

“How dare you!” 

There was a rushing sound.  An impact, metal on metal. He heard Silky cry out.  A crash. A soft groan.

“Fragging deadspark….” the other bot growled.

_ Silky?  SILKY!? _  He wasn’t sure if it was rage, or panic, over his one source of keeping his sanity being harmed.  Maybe both. Wheeljack started thrashing in his bonds, trying to break free.

“Hey...hey!  Stop tha’!” The bot foolishly tried to restrain him. He was small like Silky, no chance in the Pit he would hold him down, even in his weakened state.

There was wrenching of metal above him and he both felt and heard the chain fall.  His arms were free, though they were still bound together with cuffs. It was enough.

“Oh scrap….”  The other bot had let him go and sounded like he was trying to back out of his reach.

_ Too slow! _  Wheeljack had him in his ‘sights’.  He wasted no time swinging his arms in his direction.  His fists connected and he heard a crunch. The other bot cried out in pain as he was smacked away.  He heard him hit something, likely a wall. There was a groan, then silence.

First thing he did after was to yank the sponge out of his mouth.  “Punk aft piece of slag!” he snarled.

“You shouldn’t have done tha’....”  Silky groaned. Sounded like they were getting to their feet.  Wheeljack felt relief that they were OK.

“Yeah, well he pissed me off….”  He started to reach for the blindfold, but the cuffs made it very difficult for him to grip it.

Then he was hit with a wave of weakness.  His legs started to shake, then gave out. He caught himself with his hands, barely.

“Oh no….”  He felt Silky touch him on the shoulder.  “You’re crashing….”

“Ha ha…,” Wheeljack chuckled as what was left of his strength started draining from him rapidly.  “At least...I proved...I can break their Pit spawned chains….” He slumped to the floor.

Then he was aware of nothing….


	6. Chapter 6

When Wheeljack came to, he found himself actually laying down, not chained up on his feet.  He was still restrained by strong bands over his forearms and ankles, but laying down was a nice change of pace.  Still blindfolded though, damn. He couldn’t help but start to test his new restraints.

“So troublesome one is finally awake.”  

He didn’t recognize that voice. Reminded him of gravel.  

“So...new room?” he asked.

There was a snort.  ‘Gravel’ sounded like she was on the far side of the room, fiddling with some tools.  He didn’t like the sound of that. “You are in my medbay,” Gravel replied. “Nearly your grave.”

So Gravel is a medic.  Did Silky work with her before?  He decided not to risk trying to confirm that.  “I was that bad, eh?” he asked.

Another snort and the sound of something being tossed into a bin.  “I keep telling them: don’t starve. Fools don’t listen.”

At least this one sounded like they some spark in them.  “How long was I out?”

“Nearly cycle.  Your crash was severe.”  Sound of another object being tossed into a bin.  “Minor infection not help.”

“Infection? From what?”

“Improper cleaning. Residue from bug repellent herb has mild corrosive effect when allowed to build up too much.”

That explained the itch he kept getting.  That slag must have gotten to his protoform and eaten enough to cause the infection she was talking about.  “I suppose regular baths are also ‘required’ for your prisoners?”

There was a grunt, but before she answered, someone else did for him.

“You would have had regular baths...more freedom in general...if you cooperated.”

Wheeljack immediately growled in Stormburst’s direction.  Did he just walk in or was he standing there for a while?

“Overseer,” Gravel snarled. “How many times do I tell you...you and High Overseer Steelstone.  Don’t starve. Don’t skip on regular washings... _ and _ exercise for initiates!”

“The convincing process not as effective...or fas’... if we follow your ‘suggestions’, Gravelgrind,” Stormburst retorted.

_ Huh, so I kind of guessed her name right. _  Wheeljack found himself amused by that.

“You wouldn’t be sending as many near-dead ‘newbies’ to my bay if you did!”  Gravelgrind snapped. “Less resources would be used if I didn’t have to keep saving their afts!”

“Then be more resourceful...less wasteful,” Stormburst commented coolly, earning him a frustrated growl from the medic.

“So quick to blame someone else, rather than look at yourself and your methods, eh?”  Wheeljack muttered.

He felt his head get grabbed, lifted, then slammed into the berth.  Wheeljack cried out, his processor swimming with pain from the impact.

“Shut it,” Stormburst growled, before releasing him.

“Hey! No abusing my patients!” Gravelgrind cried.  Though the fog of pain, Wheeljack heard the medic rush toward him and shove Stormburst away.  “He still recovering from your ‘conditioning’!”

“Which is incomplete,” Stormburst snarled.  “Frustratingly so. He should have submitted by now.”

“Guess the belief those that are strong physically are weak mentally is incorrect, eh?”  Wheeljack pointed out.

“I said for you to shut it!”

“Oh not so amused by my wit now, are ya?”

There was growl.  Then the sound of something being caught just above his head.

“Hit him again and I throw you into canyon, frag your rank,” Gravelgrind warningly.  “This is  _ my _ bay... _ my _ rules!”

_ Oh ho ho I like this one. _  Wheeljack couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

A tense silence followed.  He was certain the two were having a stare down.

“Clear him,” Stormburst commanded. “His conditioning needs to continue.”

“He will be cleared when I say so,” Gravelgrind replied.  “I will not send half-dead bot back to tha’ pit.”

There was a loud snarl from Stormburst. Followed by another tense period of silence.  

“Very well,” Stormburst growled.  “As for you….don’t be so proud of your ‘accomplishment’ tha’ day.  The bracing holding the chain was weak due to wear.” He heard him lean closer.  “You will not be so lucky again….”

“I still broke it,” Wheeljack gave him his best slag eating grin.

There was a stiff snarl, followed by warning growl from Gravelgrind.  Then he heard Stormburst turn around and storm out of the medbay, grumbling. Wheeljack thought he heard him mutter something akin to ‘only medic’.

Gravelgrind was muttering herself, sounded like curses.  He felt her lift him up so she could inspect the back of his head for damage.  “Darn fools,” she was grumbling as she put his head back down. “Not realize their method does not give lasting members...not truly loyal ones.”

Now that was interesting information.  Wheeljack filed that away for later.

“You don’t seem happy here,” he commented.

There was a snort.  “Been hard since I lost my herbalist.  Have to spend time gathering and preparing salves and ointments myself.”  Sounded like she was heading back to where she was before Stormburst came in.

“What happened to your herbalist?”  he asked. Wheeljack already knew, but getting a different side of the story never hurt.

“Bondmate caught incurable illness...was stuck in Proving cage for Test of Primus.  He failed. They blamed and was retrained.” Yep, she was doing whatever she was doing when he first woke up.  

Wheeljack nearly commented that toidysos  _ was _ curable if caught early enough, but that would reveal that he knew things he shouldn’t.  He didn’t want Silky to get into more trouble.

“What is the ‘Proving cage’ and ‘Test of Primus’?” he asked instead.

Another snort.  “You are indeed talkative one,” the medic muttered.  “When bot is beyond my ability to repair, but still lives, they are put in Proving cage.  It is literal cage hung over canyon.”

Oh he already could guess where this was going and he did not like it one bit!

“Let me guess...the ‘Test of Primus’ is essentially askin’ for a miracle from Primus for them to be cured, healed, whatever.”  He made sure his tone was dripping with as much disgust as he felt.

There was a chuckle, though it one without humor. “You are bright one,” Gravelgrind commented.  “And strong...no wonder they wan’ you.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want them,”  Wheeljack growled.

A moment of silence passed.   “If you wish to truly remain free….”  Gravelgrind lost that melodic accent for some reason.  “You better escape before they brand you.”

“Why does that matter?”

There was a long sigh.  “The brand makes you easy to spot and recognize,” the medic explained.  “Those that try to escape are always found and brought back. They are then put through a treatment worse than what you currently suffer.  To ‘remind’ them of their ‘true’ place. Many I suspect only stay out of fear for themselves or...others.”

Wheeljack didn’t miss that hint.  “You only stay because of someone else…”

“My bondmate…,” was the sad response.  “He was rendered almost processor defunct after getting caught in a cave in.  The Sirens were the first to offer us shelter...a safe place for him to live out the rest of his life.”  There was a faint scraping sound. “If I had known what this group truly was...I would have refused and kept going.”

“I don’t think it would have been that simple,”  Wheeljack pointed out. “I was offered...refused them...and they knocked me out and took me anyway.”

There was a shuddering sigh.  “Then it is even more important you escape before it is too late.”  He heard her approach him again. “I heard rumors from the scouts that a new group is forming, one that wishes to protect bots from the likes of the Razers...perhaps even groups like this one, if they knew the truth.  From what I’ve heard about you...you’d fit right in with them.”

“I admit that got my interest.  Do they have a name?”

“The Wreckers.”

Oh yeah, from the name alone, it sounded like they would be his kind of bots.

\--

The next couple of cycles were the best he had since he came to this Pithole of a tribe.

Wheeljack was given more energon than he had tasted in joors.   While his energy levels were not a hundred percent, it was far better than what they had been lately.   He as also allowed to flex and stretch to his sparks content at regular intervals, though Gravelgrind had given him a rule for these times:  don’t take the blindfold off.

No problem.  Wheeljack respected Gravelgrind enough to follow that.  Now if it had been Stormburst...he would have ripped the blindfold off and punched the slagger in the face.

Eventually, Gravelgrind had to let him go back to his ‘pit’ as she called it.  Apt name, he decided. Things were still better than before, however, though not due to Stormburst or Steelstone’s orders.  No, they still largely treated him like before, or at least tried to. Energon only once a cycle, complete isolation, and so on.  

The one change they did make was giving him quick wipe down every other cycle, usually just before bug bot came to refill the lamp.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t Silky that did this duty, but the rude bot he smashed into the wall. Needless to say, this bot did his duty  _ very _ quick and got away from him as fast as he could.  Wheeljack found that amusing everytime.

Another upside was that Silky started visiting him almost every night.  They would give him extra energon and loosen the chains so he could flex a bit to keep himself limber.  The ‘keep the blindfold on’ rule applied though, which he respected.

They would chat quietly as well during these sessions.  Silky would tell him more tidbits about the Siren’s themselves, the different ranks, how they determine who does what and so on.  In honesty, the Siren’s probably would be a decent group to stay with, if their methods of member acquisition were more  _ honorable _ .  Not to mention the ‘Test of Primus’ business and what happens to bondwidows.

OK, scratch that.  A lot of changes would need to be made before he would consider them  _ acceptable _ .

Silky also would give him the latest rumors flying about.  The Wreckers were definitely a thing and latest rumor was that they just wrecked a Razer camp a couple cycles journey from this one.  Oh yeah, definitely his kind of bots. Once he busted outta here he intended to find them and put in an application.

He worried about Silky, and Gravelgrind and her bondmate for that matter.  None of them needed to be in a place like this. Surely there was a way for them to escape this group as well.  Gravelgrind seemed to have lost hope for freedom for herself and her bondmate, but Silky appeared to be at least considering the option.  If their questioning about the outside world was any indication.

There was one thing that nagged him though.

“So how come ya won’t tell me your name?” Wheeljack asked one night as he stretched.

“I have no righ’ to be called by my name…,” Silky replied, sorrow creeping into their voice.  “Due to wha’ happened to my Chosen.”

Oh wonderful,  _ another _ reason to hate these slaggers.  

“Oh so they think you’re nothin’?  A nobody with no name? Frag that…,” he growled.  “Would that at least change should ya get another bondmate?”

“There….”  The sorrow was thick now.  “There won’t be another. Not allowed.”

He looked toward them in shock.   _ Are you fragging kidding me!? _

“But ya can’t control whether or not you fall in love again,” Wheeljack pointed out.

“No...but ones like me not allowed to act upon it.”

“Isn’t that contradicting what ya told me before about ‘followin’ what your body says’?”

“We not allowed….”  Silky finally responded slowly, their tone sounding measured.  “Because we believe we only meant for one. To pursue another, would deny someone else theirs.  Keep them from ever being complete...even if its...brief.”

He caught that meaning.  “You didn’t have your Chosen long….”

“Barely a vorn….”  was the barely heard response.

_ That isn’t long at all. _  Barely enough time to get over the ‘new bond jitters’.  And they are not allowed to try again? What a crock of slag.  Now they are forced to suffer a diminished standing for the rest of their life.  All for something they had no control over.

Wheeljack took a deep intake and let it out again, calming the rage he was feeling build up.  He needed to save that rage for a more appropriate time. Right now, he could tell Silky was about to break down.

“Hey...come ‘ere a moment…,” he softly coaxed, stretching out a hand toward where he heard them last.

There was a soft whimper, but it sounded to be more out of sorrow than fear.  It took a few nanos, but he felt Silky’s hand touch his. He gently clasped it and started to pull them closer.

Now there was fear. He felt them start to pull away.

“I won’t hurt ya,” he told them reassuringly.

They stopped resisting and he was able to pull them into a hug.  Silky stiffened at first, then relaxed into him, hands reaching up and wrapping around his neck before breaking into sobs.  Wheeljack rubbed their back, feeling how smooth their plating was. He noticed there four small winglets there.

There was a roughened spot in the middle of their upper back, right in between the two inner winglets.  He traced it with a finger, getting an idea of its shape and realized the shape was that of the tribe symbol.  It was the brand.

_ Primus...they melt it into their frames!? _  No wonder they scream when they get them.  If there was one on Silky’s back, there was likely one on their front as well.  Gravelgrind wasn’t kidding when she said the brand was easily spotted….

“You deserve a better life than this, Silky…,” he told them, one hand rubbing the back of their head.  “You should come with me when I bust outta here….”

Silky stiffened, their sobs ceasing.  “I c-can’t…,” they protested. “Once Siren…always Siren.”

“You may have their brand...but as far as I am concerned, you are  _ not _ a Siren,” Wheeljack insisted.  “You’re nothin’ like those slaggers Steelstone and Stormburst.”

“This all I know….”

“That just means there’s plenty of new things to try and experience.”  He flashed a friendly smirk at them. “You just need to have the bearings to try.”

There was silence for several nanos before Silky spoke.  “Patrol coming soon...I need to tighten your chains.”

Wheeljack reluctantly let them go and listened as they walked around behind him.  Moments later his arms were forced back up to their ‘usual’ position.

“At least think about it?” Wheeljack asked, suspecting fear was keeping them from agreeing with his suggestion.

“I...I will...think about it….,” Silky replied as he heard them walk past him, heading toward the exit.  He heard them pause in their steps for a moment. “Thank you...Wheeljack.”

“I...do what I can,” he stated, smiling as he blushing faintly.

Once Silky was gone he sighed deeply.  

_ I’m gonna get you out of here, Silky.  If not when I bust outta here, then I’ll come back with help and bust out you and everyone else that wants to leave gotta this Pithole. _

Little did he know, things would change drastically only a few cycles later….

\--

Wheeljack was lightly recharging when he felt Silky shake him.  He checked his chronometer: they were two breems later than usual.  There was some randomness to their visit of course, but this was outside the norm.  Something was up, he could feel it in his tank.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing Silky wasn’t going for the chain wench this time.  Instead, he heard them put something down in front of him and stepped up on it. A stool.  What were they up to? “Sil-mmmph!?”

Wheeljack stiffened when they suddenly kissed him.  His optics widened, his sensor net igniting and his processor just about shut down on him.  Then he felt something in his mouth and it wasn’t Silky’s glossa. It was hard, bumpy and metallic.  Silky pushed it so far into his mouth that he had no choice but to swallow it. Only then did Silky pull away.

“What...the frag?” Was the first thing out of Wheeljack’s mouth.

“You’ll need tha’ soon…,” Silky told him.  “Very soon….”

“What is goin’ on, Silky?” he asked.  His processor hadn’t quite recovered yet.

“Remember wha’ Gravelgrind said about corrosion….”  Was all Silky said before kissing him again. This time, those lips moved and caressed his, sending what felt like lightning through his frame.  Silky’s hands softly rubbed against the base of his neck as they wrapped around it, the kiss deepening as they interlaced at the nape. Wheeljack’s optics drifted closed.

This.  This wasn’t just a thank you kiss.  There...there was ernst passion behind it and Wheeljack was melting into it.  He started returning it the best he could as time just seemed to stop. Nothing else seemed to matter right now.  Just this shared moment of peace and passion.

Unfortunately he would not get to enjoy this moment for long.

“What are you doing!?”  The voice was so shrieky in rage and shock that he almost didn’t recognize it as Stormburst.

The kiss was abruptly broken, Silky emitting a high pitched ‘yeek’ before he heard them dash away.  He heard the stool tip over in their haste. Wheeljack would have found that ‘yeek’ incredibly cute if it wasn’t for the direness of the situation.

“Get back here!” Stormburst was screaming.  There was the sound of running, another ‘yeek’ from Silky.  “Shadow hiding little slagger!” Oh, Stormburst sounded furious.  “You can’t hide from me forever!”

“Silky?”  Wheeljack’s processor was finally breaking out of the shock from both the kiss and the interruption. By then he could tell Silky had run out of the chamber, Stormburst hot on their heels.  “Silky!?”

He felt that rage again.  Wheeljack let it build this time.  Silky was in trouble. Knowing Sirens didn’t kill didn’t help, as he knew there were worse things than death.  He started thrashing against his chains.

_ “Remember what’ Gravelgrind said about corrosion….” _  Silky’s last statement came back to him, snapping his processor to attention.

_ Residue from the bug repellent…. _  Though he was still blindfolded, he looked up anyway.    _ Has a mild corrosive effect when built up. _  When was the last time they washed these chains...or replaced them?

A smirk formed on his face.   _ Time to find out. _

He tempered his rage, channeling it into his right arm, focusing all his strength there on that chain.  Wheeljack pulled and pulled for several nanos, nothing happened.  _ Come on! _

Then...he felt it start to give.  A couple of nanos later, he heard it snap.  Wheeljack laughed as, with his newly freed hand, he ripped off the blindfold and tossed it away.  Then grunted with pain when his optics complained at the sudden increase in light.

He blinked rapidly for several nanos until his optics got used to the light once more, his vision initially blurry but clearing rapidly.  Then he wrapped his free hand around the chain holding up his left hand and, with the combined strength of both arms, broke that one too, this one at the shackle.  The ones attached to his feet he made sure he broke close to the shackles, so they wouldn’t trip him up as moved. They took a bit more time to break as well, if only due to awkward angles and less leverage.  But break they still did.

At long last, Wheeljack was free…

....and he was  _ not _ in a good mood….


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack goes on a rampage....

Before he could go anywhere, two guards walked in.  From how casual they initially walked in, they were probably just doing a routine check.  Both recoiled in surprise when they saw a formerly helpless prisoner free. Their surprise meant they were not prepared for the fury that was Wheeljack...and he didn’t waste any time.

He picked up the stool Silky left behind and threw it at one of them.  It clobbered him right in the head, sending him reeling back, stunned. For the other one, he used the chain that were still attached to his right shackle like a whip.  Wrapping it around the second guard’s neck and then yanked him in. The moment he was close enough he grabbed him by the head and slammed him into the ground. That one was now out cold.

By then the first had recovered.  His optics widened in fear when Wheeljack charged at him, roaring a battlecry.  He tackled the bot to the ground and started punching him in his ugly face. After a few punches, he wasn’t moving anymore.

_ Silky...need to find Silky _ .

Wheeljack only delayed long enough to wrap the chain around his arm so it wouldn’t trip him.  Only then did he run out of the chamber and out into the main hallway. He had no idea where to go, or even where to start looking, so he just picked a direction and ran.

There another flaw this idea, he knew:  he really didn’t know what Silky looked like other than that they were a small frame with silver hands, winglets and a smooth back.  That could be any number of bots in this slagging place! Stormburst also said something about Silky shadow hiding? What did that mean?

Two more Sirens appeared in his path from a side passage. Tall and broad frames.  Definitely not Silky. With a roar he tackled them both, slamming them into the ground.  A few punches to both their faces made sure they stayed down. Then he continued on.

Another lone Siren heard the commotion and stuck his head out of a side room.  Small, but green and red. Also definitely not Silky. Wheeljack grabbed him by the face and bashed it into the wall.  Then continued on.

Fat white frame.  Nope. Jumped kicked that one.

Small silver frame, but no winglets.  Wrong. He grabbed that one by the arm and slammed them into a taller purple one that was also definitely not Silky.

Pit, he could already tell he was lost, not that he had any idea on where to go to begin with.  By now the whole camp likely knew something was going down. And now he was an intersection, three tunnels before him, needing to decide on a direction.

_ Scrap. _

“You’ll want to take the right one.”  Familiar gravely voice told him.

“Gravelgrind?”  Wheeljack turned to see the medic behind him.  She was slightly taller than him, red and brown in coloration with yellow optics, bulky build.

Gravelgrind nodded, then gave him a few more directions.  “Then you will come across a door...you already have the means to get by it.  It will take you outside.”

“I can’t leave yet...Silky…,” Wheeljack protested, looking at the other two tunnels. Maybe Silky went down one of them….

“They are keeping the Overseer busy while you escape,” the medic informed him.  “But their power will only aid them for so long. Do not waste this time looking for them.”

“But….”  If he can’t get Silky out, then perhaps…  “You and your bondmate...this could be your chance….”

Gravelgrind was shaking her head.  “Our chance will come, Wheeljack,” she told him softly.  “When you escape...you will give all of us that are trapped here hope of eventual rescue.”  She stepped forward and shoved him toward the right tunnel. “Go! Stop wasting time!”

Wheeljack hesitated a moment.  This felt wrong. Wrong to leave them here.  But they were also right. If he escaped, he can come back with help.  To free all the ones that want to be freed.

“I will be back!  I promise!” he cried as he dashed down the tunnel.   Nano’s later the thought he heard the medic directing guards down a different tunnel.  He hoped Gravelgrind did not get in trouble for helping him, though as a medic she seemed to have a bit more ‘protection’ from repercussions.  Wheeljack hoped so, anyway.

It was clear this path wasn’t traveled as often.  Only a few Sirens were encountered and they all meet his fists.  Or the wall. Or the floor. He thought he slammed one into the ceiling somehow, not sure.  Everything was a blur. He nearly missed the last turn the medic told him to take.

A klik or so running down this tunnel he encountered the door Gravelgrind warned him about.  It was locked.  _ Scrap!  How am I gonna- _

_ “...you already have the means to get by it.” _

He felt his stomach. A key.  That’s what Silky gave him. The sneaky slagger!  They must have been working with Gravelgrind to arrange all this.

_ Never thought I’d have to do this. _  He activated his tanks purge command.  A few nanos later he had thrown up what he had swallowed before.  It was indeed a key and it was now in his hand. His tank ached a bit, but he knew that would pass.  He was also grateful Silky  _ hadn’t _ given him any energon before this:  that would have left quite a mess. And a clue to where he went.

There was sounds of bots coming in the distance.  Quickly he used the key, the door opening with a creek.  On a whim he took the key with him and shut the door behind him.  If they figured out he came this way, they’ll have to get the spare, if there was one.  That is if they even realized he got through it.

He could tell this tunnel sloped upwards, that was a good sign.  It had a few turns in it, but no branch offs. Fairly wide as well.  Was this an emergency escape tunnel? Well, it was definitely an  _ escape _ tunnel in his optics either way.

Finally, after a couple kliks of running, he could see light.  The glorious bright light of the outside. His optics clouding from the intensity, he burst out into the open.

“Wha’ the!?” a surprised voice cried.

Oh. Guards here. No problem.

Wheeljack was half-blinded by the sun, so going strictly by where he heard the voice, he struck.  His fist impacted on metal, felt like a chest, blowing the poor slagger away. He heard him actually skip across the ground a couple of times.  Hmm...slagger skipping. Sounds like a fun game to play using aftholes as the stone.

There had to be a second guard.  He looked around, his optics starting to adjust.  Ah, there he was.

“Oh no….” The poor slagger was backing away from him, hands up.

“This is your unlucky day….”  Wheeljack told him as he grabbed the bot and slammed him onto the ground.  Then he grabbed him by the leg and slung him. Wound up throwing him into the first guard that was just getting up.  Neither were moving now.

A quick check told him no other guards were around.  Wheeljack checked his nav system to get his bearings.  From the rumors Silky told him, the last known location the Wreckers were spotted were to the east.

So that’s where he headed.  As fast as his legs could take him.

\--

_ Three cycles later…. _

Keep going. Must keep going.

That’s what Wheeljack kept telling himself. It was getting harder and harder to comply though.

Three cycles he had been walking.  Only stopping to recharge for a few breems before continuing.  Pit he was hungry, his reserves getting low.  Where was that fragging camp?

Did he go the wrong way?  Was he given the wrong information?  Just to give him false hope? Sure he was free, but what good was freedom if he was about to die?  Or was caught again? He was fairly certain the Sirens had picked up on his trail by now and were in pursuit.

He couldn’t be caught again.  He couldn’t die. There were bots he promised he would come back for when he was able.  He couldn’t let them down.

A leg buckled and he was now kissing dirt.  He tried to get up again, but his limbs just felt so heavy.    _ Perhaps I should rest a-  No! Resting now would be a bad idea! _

He heard movement behind him.  Wheeljack was able to lift his head and look back, seeing three figures approaching.  After a moment he recognized the Siren brand on their chests.

_ Scrap. _

“Thought you’d get away?” one of them said as they surrounded him. “Your initiation is not finished…”

He thought he heard more movement toward his front.  Wonderful. In his current state he may be able to take down one of them for sure, maybe two...but three or more was really pushing it.

“I don’t want nothin’ to do with your Pitspawned tribe!”  Wheeljack growled at them, kicking at one that got too close.

“Tha’ not your choice to make!” the same bot snarled in retort.

“Actually...it is,” a new voice came from the front.  All heads turned in that direction, including Wheeljack’s.

He saw two bots.  One tall, slender, broad winglets on his back, black and grey with silver accents and cherry red optics blazing with a simmering fury.  The other was short, round and green, light blue optics narrowed in anger. Neither had the Siren brand on their chests: instead they bore an insignia he didn’t recognize.

“Back off!  This Siren business!” one of the Siren’s snapped.

“Forcin’ bots inta a life they did not choose for themselves is wrong,” the tall one was saying.  “Thus makes it our business. Now...ya have a choice.”

“Yeah…,” the green one growled. “Leave the bot alone, or we’ll show you what Wreckers can do to bots we don’t like.”  He pounded his fist together. Beside him, his companion drew two long sabers and started twirling them around like they were nothing.

Wreckers!  Wheeljack’s hopes started to soar.  He was already quite impressed by their display, especially the tall one’s sword play.

The Siren’s however, were not impressed.  They seemed rather intimidated, actually.

“We won’t forget this...Wre’gers….”  One of them growled as they turned and ran.

“It’s  _ Wreckers _ !  Get it right ya afts!”  the tall one shouted after them.

“Ha ha!  Cowards!”  the green one taunted.

“If I wasn’t feelin’ so relieved to see ya...I’d probably be runnin’ with them,” Wheeljack admitted with a weak chuckle, feeling his frame truly  _ relax _ for the first time in...he forgot.

“Ya look like you’ve been through some slag, my friend,” the tall one stated, kneeling front of him.

“You could say that….”  He really wanted to stand up to greet them properly, but he had no strength.  In fact he was feeling pretty sleepy right now. The tall guy noticed.

“Bulkhead, get him back ta camp.  I’ll watch our backs.”

“Got it, Ebon.”  

“Ebon _ scream _ , kid.”  Ebonscream chided.  “Respect your elders!”

“Ha ha…,” Wheeljack commented weakly as he felt Bulkhead lift him up into his arms.  “I’ll call ya ‘Ebony’ then….”

There was a snort, though it sounded like an amused one.  “Got ourselves a joker here.”

Wheeljack didn’t remember any further commentary, or even the start of the trip to their camp.  He had fallen unconscious.

\--

When Wheeljack woke up, he found himself in a simple tent, laying on a slab that barely qualified as a berth.  The shackles on his limbs were gone and there were signs the plating there was repaired of any dents and scraps caused by them.  It felt...weird...not having them there, but he certainly didn’t miss them. Frag that. Best yet, there were no  _ new _ ones holding him down anywhere.

He sat up and looked around more thoroughly.  There really wasn’t much in here, just a couple of berths, including the one he’s on, and a simple storage chest.  Something caught his optic on the tent wall: it looked like the Razer insignia.  _ What the frag?  _  He was pretty certain he was rescued by the Wreckers.

“I do apologize for the...less than adequate accommodations,”  a voice said, making him jump and look that way. At the tent entrance stood the tall, dark colored bot that he remembered before his lights went out.  What was his name? Ebondream? Ebonsteam? Ah screw it, Ebony.

“Before we found ya, we had a influx of newcomers, we are short on available berths:  had ta throw this tent together for ya,” Ebony continued as he approached him. “Hence the... _ questionable _ insignia ya see in here.” He was looking at it with distaste before looking his way again.  “How ya feelin’, friend?”

“Still sortin’ that out,” Wheeljack admitted.  “Relief a big one. Relief I am no longer chained up, isolated and half-starved.  But….” He sighed. “I had to leave some good bots behind when I escaped….”

“Prisoners like ya?”

“Yes...but they were not held by chains.  They helped me keep my sanity, helped me escape.  They...deserve freedom too.”

_ Silky…. _  The memory of that kiss flashed in his processor.  Were they alright? Stormburst was  _ not _ happy with them, he knew that much.

Ebony had a grim expression on his face.  “From the shackles that we removed off ya, these…’Sirens’ appear ta be well established,” he stated.  “Rescuin’ them may be difficult for a small group such as us, at least right now. But I cannot make that call on my own.”

“Ya not the leader, Ebony?” Wheeljack asked.

“Ebon _ scream _ ,” the bot corrected, a smirk on his face.  “And technically, no. I’m their tactician, the bot that makes the plans for our missions.  Also serve as the trainer here, teach our more  _ impulsive _ members use their processors first before jumpin’ in head first.”

“Then you will need to know everythin’ I know about those slaggers,” Wheeljack stated, his expression hardening.

“In due time,” Ebonscream told him, holding up a hand. “Focus on recoverin’ right now.  Ya were out for nearly a whole cycle. Give yourself time ta recover your strength and get your wits back, kid, so your processor is fully focused when ya tell all of us your tale.”   


One of Wheeljack’s optics twitched.  “Name’s ‘Wheeljack’, not ‘kid’.” He added with a smirk. “Ebony.”

Ebonscream smirked right back at him.  “I think you’ll get along here just fine...Jackie.”

Wheeljack had to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two chaps will be posted on Sunday (or maybe sooner ;))!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post this one early!

Later that day, he found out that Bulkhead, the other bot that had rescued him, volunteered to be his caretaker while he recovered.  Bulkhead turned out to such a warm and loving bot, despite his tough looking exterior, that Wheeljack found it easy to get along with him.  Through Bulkhead he learned the main goal of the Wreckers: to aid and protect those that needed it from bots that wished only to do harm.

Yep, definitely his kind of bots.

Couple of cycles later, he felt strong enough to try to explore the camp a bit.  Bulkhead accompanied him and Ebonscream joined them a short time later. It felt so good to be able to walk around on his own, with no shackles restricting his movement.  Or guards forcing to go where they wanted him to go for that matter.

They gave him a tour around the camp and introduced him to many of the other Wreckers.  Wheeljack meet so many new faces that day. All friendly and welcoming. Well, a couple were somewhat rude, but Ebonscream was quick to admonish them. It was nice to not have anyone talking down at him, telling him that scrap he had no choice in what to do and where to be.

That night he was invited to join them for their evening meal, which was held in the community ‘pit’ that also served as the training area during the day.  These guys had a quite a few fantastic stories and he couldn't help but start sharing a few of his own. Not what happened to him in the Siren camp, but ones from his time when he still lived in the underworld.  He had almost every bot’s undivided attention. Wheeljack wasn’t sure if he was just  _ that _ good of a storyteller or because it was stories they’ve never heard before.  Either way, he felt he made an impression.

Next cycle he spent resting, the previous day having exhausted him a bit.  That night, he was invited again to the community pit. This time, he felt an air of expectation:  they wanted to know what happened to him. He found himself hesitating.

“Ya don’t have ta tell it tanight if ya are not ready ta,” Ebonscream assured him.  “They’ll understand.”

_ But the longer they ‘don’t’ know, the more likely more bots will fall victim to their ‘methods’. _ _ And the longer will take to save Silky….  _ Wheeljack took a deep intake, steeled himself and began.

“It started when I was approached by this friendly bot while roamin’ near the Sonic Canyons,” he explained. “I was lookin’ for a good place to call home, to settle.  I liked what he was tellin’ me, so I accepted his invitation to check out their camp. Once I got there though, while they were all nice and friendly, my tank was tellin’ me somethin’ was off.  I decided to listen to it. Told them thanks but no thanks and went to leave. Turned out they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

There were already a number of angry expressions among them.  That number grew as he continued, telling them how he woke up in chains.  Told they wanted him, so they will get him no matter how long it took, then blindfolded, isolated and give him limited energon each day.  All to weaken his resistance.

A resistance, he told him, that was strengthened each time he had a visit from Silky.  A few bots leaned in as he told him what he knew of their story, which naturally lead into everything Wheeljack knew about Siren culture.  Ebonscream and a few other of the more senior Wreckers were taking this in with interest, grim expressions on their faces.

“So did ‘Silky’ look hot?” one of the younger bots asked.

“Idiot!  Weren’t you paying attention?” An older one, Kup he believed was his name, admonished.  “He said he was  _ blindfolded _ .”

“Oh…right….”

Wheeljack chuckled a bit before continuing.  He told next what happened during his second ‘bath’.  Where he managed to break somewhat free and attack the Siren that had hurt Silky.   There were a few cheers in response.

“Unfortunately that exertion tasked my weakened body too far...I crashed after that,”  Wheeljack explained. He told them his meeting with the medic, Gravelgrind, and her story.  How she kept him in their medbay as long as she could, allowing him to get vital strength and energy back.  Then how after that, Silky started visiting him more often, sneaking him extra energon, enabling him to stretch his limbs each time.  The Wreckers seemed to know the climax of the tale was coming and they were all looking eager.

This part, Wheeljack had trouble telling, as he was still feeling uncertain on just how he felt about it.  “Then one night...they gave me a key...by kissin’ me.” There were a few ‘ooohs’ and ‘whoohos’, which did  _ not _ help him keep the blush off his face.  “Th-then they kissed me again...and that’s when the Overseer caught us.”

Everyone was leaning forward, drinking every word he spoke as he told how Stormburst chased Silky out, then Wheeljack breaking his chains, freeing himself completely.  They were buzzing with excitement has he told them how he went on a rampage through those tunnels, trying to find Silky. There were a few disappointed looks when Gravelgrind convinced him to escape instead and he did so.

“And you can probably guess the rest,” Wheeljack sighed.  “I ran in the direction the rumors last said you guys were.  For three cycles.”

“But you left your botfriend!” the same bot from before cried.

“Shut it,”  Kup growled, smacking him on the back of the head.

“The right call was made,” Ebonscream told him.  “By escapin’, Wheeljack is able ta warn every bot he meets about the Sirens.  A warnin’ I’d say we spread ourselves every chance we got.” There were quite a few cheers of agreement.

“Not enough,” Bulkhead growled.  “I’d say we go to their camp and turn it to dust!”  There were a couple of shouts of agreement.

“We do not know their numbers, Bulkhead,”  Kup pointed out.

“Like that’s stopped us before?” Another Wrecker, Wheeljack couldn’t remember his name right off, retorted.  “We took out a whole Razer camp with just ten of us!”

“Ten of our most experienced crew,” Ebonscream countered.  “And we knew what we were up against and could plan accordin’ly.   That is not the case here.” The dark colored bot rose to his feet, his cherry colored optics glowing in the night.  “From everythin’ Wheeljack told us, tells me their camp is well established and their ranks well organized. Not ta mention we know next ta nothin’ on their camp layout.”

“Plus, with Jackie’s escape, they’ll likely be expecting some retaliation,” Kup added.  “Best to wait until their guard is down. Give us time to train up all our new recruits and gather more intel.”  

“There is also the possibility they may come knockin’ here ta ‘demand’ their ’member’ back,” Ebonscream pointed out.  Wheeljack stiffened and growled at that possibility. “We should prepare ourselves for possible attack in at least three cycles.  By now, the three we chased away will have scurried back ta their camp and informed their leadership of what happened.”

“They may have a scout or two already keeping an optic on us,” Kup added.

“Considerin’ they apparently knew about us before we made our ‘debut’, that is most likely the case,” Ebonscream agreed.  “What we do from this point forward, we do...casually.” He gave everyone a smirk. “Business as usual in other words...at least ta outside optics.”

Wheeljack didn’t like the delay, but his tank was telling him he was right.  To rush in without more knowledge or a plan, would result in a disaster. Since Sirens supposedly didn’t kill, it would likely mean a number of Wreckers getting captured and ‘convinced’ to join them.  He didn’t want that.

There was a bit more discussion on the matter, but bots were already drifting off for assigned duties or to head to bed.  When it was clear no one had any questions for him, Wheeljack turned in himself, mentally exhausted from telling the story.

The next few cycles flew by.  Wheeljack feeling stronger and stronger.  He even had a few friendly sparring matches with a couple of Wreckers, just to test himself.  Friendly as they were, those matches proved that while his body was nearly a hundred percent again, he wasn’t as good of a fighter as he thought he was.  Got his aft kicked each time. Everyone was a good sport about it though.

Silky had been on his mind constantly though.  He couldn’t stop worrying about them. Where they alright?  What did Stormburst do to them as punishment? Plus Wheeljack was missing their voice...and that kiss they shared….

“What is on your processor, Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack jumped, then sighed as he looked up at Ebonscream with an exasperated look.  “Don’t do that!” he groaned.

Ebonscream simply snickered.  “Ya gonna answer my question?”

Wheeljack sighed once more and looked out over the training pit, where Bulkhead was sparring with another trainee.  “I’m worried about the ones that helped me back there…,” he admitted. “They helped me escape but...at what cost to themselves?”

“From what ya told us about ‘em,” Ebonscream consoled.  “They are strong in their own way...and will survive until we are ready ta rescue them.”

“I hope so….”

“Have faith, kid.”  Ebonscream rubbed his head.

“Glitch...from what I’ve learned your the same age as me!”  Wheeljack huffed, batting his hand away.

“Age is not the only reason I refer ta bots as ‘kid’,” Ebonscream teased.  Wheeljack rolled his optics. “Our medic says ya are fully recovered, physically.”  The darker bot’s expression turned serious. “What do ya plan ta do now? Ya are free ta leave if ya wish.”

“Leave?  Frag that.  I want to join ya.”  Wheeljack gripped the railing he was leaning against tightly.  It gave a bit. “I want to become stronger, better...not only to save Silky and others from that Pitspawn of a tribe, but to prevent others from fallin’ to the same fate.  Protect bots from other aftholes as well, for that matter!”

There was a deep chuckle from Ebonscream and he looked back up at him.  “Wheeljack...as far as many here are concerned, ya are already one of us,”  Ebonscream stated, smiling down at him. “We just needed ya ta confirm it ta us yourself.”

Wheeljack blinked at him, then grinned broadly.  “So, when do I start trainin’?”

Ebonscream’s smile turned into a grin, but before he could respond one of the other Wreckers ran up to him with a concerned expression on his face.  “What is it?” he asked.

“Someone is at the west lookout post...claiming to have a message for Wheeljack,” the Wrecker replied.

Wheeljack stiffened.  His tank suddenly felt like it was full of lead.  He had a bad feeling. Licking his lips with uncertainty, he looked at Ebonscream, who had a grim expression on his face.  “Let’s go.” Was all the Wrecker told him.

As they walked, that bad feeling only increased.  When they reached the lookout post, he saw the two Wreckers there were very tense, eager to tear into the one in front of them.  He quickly saw why.

Standing a short distance away was a tall, lean bot.  Silver and yellow in color, had broad winglets like Ebonscream and yellow optics.  On their chest was the Siren brand.

How that bot was standing, with a certain cockiness to it, gave him the impression he knew this bot.  He would quickly get confirmation.

“Wheeljack….” The bot started, smirking.  Oh yes, he knew him.

“Stormburst….,” Wheeljack growled.

“Nice dirt hole you have put yourself in.” Stormburst said mockingly.  “You would have been much better off with us….”

“You said ya had a message for me,” Wheeljack snapped, starting to step forward but Ebondscream put a hand on his shoulder. “Speak it and be done with it!”

Stormburst looked disappointed, but that smirk came back.  “Very well. The message is: you will never hear sound of silk again.”

At first he was confused, but when the meaning dawned on him, it felt like his spark was just ripped in two.  “N-no….” His legs felt like they were about to give out on him.

“We were told ya do not kill,” Ebonscream growled, his hands on the hilts of his sabers.

“We don’t,” Stormburst confirmed, but then added.  “Directly.”

Of course they would have loopholes on the whole ‘don’t kill’ thing.   Then the slagger kept talking.

“Turned out I got a bit...overly  _ enthusiastic _ when punishing them,” he explained, sweeping his hands wide with a mock apologetic expression.  “Damaged them beyond ability for medic to help.”

Wheeljack immediately knew what that meant.  “You bastard...you put them in the Proving cage….”  He felt his frame start to tremble.

“By now...they’ll have failed their tes’,”  Stormburst confirmed. “Body sent to Primus.”

Wheeljack fell to his knees.  It can’t be. Silky can’t be gone.

“Oh no need to grieve..,” Stormburst told him with an uncaring shrug.  “After all, life of bondwidow not worth much….”

“You monster!”  Wheeljack snapped, springing to his feet and charging at the Siren, Ebonscream cries to stop unheard.  “They were worth more than you’ll ever be!”

Unfortunately, due to Wheeljack’s emotional state, Stormburst easily evaded his attacks.  The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, on his back. The Siren now had a foot on his chest, a broad grin on his face.

There was a flash of metal.  Stormburst’s grin disappeared as he was forced to jump away from Ebonscream’s attacks.  The Wrecker did not press his advantage though, choosing to stay between them, his sabers perfectly posed to attack.  Stormburst looked perturbed..

“If you had stayed… _ joined  _ us,” Stormburst informed, a serious look on his face now.  “This would not have happened. Your... _ Silky _ ...would still live.”

“Begone,” Ebonscream growled.  “Ya have done what ya came ta do.”

“Indeed I have,” Stormburst chuckled, before turning and walking away.  In that slow, methodical, strutting walk.

“You’re dead!” Wheeljack cried rolling onto his hands and knees.  “Ya hear me! Next time I see ya I’ll have your head!”

Stormburst didn’t even seem to acknowledge his threat.  He just kept walking. Wheeljack thought he heard him start humming….

Realization was finally sinking in fully now.  The one that had kept him together during his ordeal was gone.  He’ll never hear their voice again. Feel their gentle touch on his chassis.  Taste those soft, warm lips….

The anger and rage flew from him, replaced by simple grief.  His frame shook as he sobbed, optics completely clouded. He buried his face in his hands as he sat back on his heels.  Wheeljack thought he heard someone calling his name, but he didn’t care. He thought he felt someone put a hand on his shoulder.  Didn’t care about that either.

Wheeljack was dead to the world at that moment.  Nothing mattered to him right now. Not his life. Not his new friends.  _ Nothing. _  Nothing but his grief.

The Sirens finally broke him...and he wasn’t even in their camp anymore....

\--   


Three cycles.

That’s how long it took before Wheeljack’s processor started to properly function again.  To start becoming aware of his surroundings once more. He was back in his quarters, on his berth:  he had no recollection how he got there. It was likely someone carried him there.

Subconsciously, he pulled out something from a nook in his chassis.  It was the key Silky had given him, the key that lead him outside, to said freedom.  He both loved it and hated it. Loved it because it was the only tangible thing left of Silky.  Hated it because it would remind him that they were gone.

Why did freedom have to hurt like this?  Why did the cost have to be so high? Was it really worth it if it meant losing the one that mattered most to you?

“ _ If you had stayed...joined us...this would not have happened.” _  That bastard Stormburst’s words echoed in his head.

Wheeljack crushed his optics closed, clutching that key tightly.  He was right...that bastard was-

_ Even if I had stayed _ , a voice in the back of his head said.   _ We would not have been allowed to be together. _

_ I would still have been able to see them...to hear them.  Be with them…. _

_ But I would be little more than a slave with no true free will.  Bound by their whims. Is that truly what I want? Is that what they would have wanted...considering the sacrifice they made to free me? _

As much as hated to admit it.  He knew the answer to that question.

_ No...it is not. _

_ Is it right for me to be blamed for someone else’s choice? _

_ No…. _

_ Then who is really to blame for this? _

Wheeljack gritted his denta.  He knew that answer too.

_ Stormburst...and the rest of the Sirens. _

Things finally clicked in his processor.   Pieces old and new snapping together to bring him back to full awareness.

He knew what he needed to do now.

Wheeljack sat up, feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time.  He looked at the key, briefly allowed himself to remember the sound of Silky’s voice...the feel of their lips upon his.  Then he filed those memories away into his datacore and put the key back into its hiding place.

He was a little shaky as he stood up, but quickly walked it off as he emerged from his quarters.  Ebonscream and Bulkhead were outside, waiting. It was almost like they knew he would come out this day.

“Welcome back,” Ebonscream greeted, a smile on his face as he held out a cube of energon to him.  A cube that was quickly taken and consumed by Wheeljack.

“I’m a ready to begin,” Wheeljack told him, his face one of determination.  

_ I’ll save the ones that want to be saved...then send the rest of them to the Pit! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will be posted tomorrow.


	9. Epilogue

Pain.  So much pain.

_ The silver and yellow face of Stormburst glaring at them. “You...will pay for this….” _

Thin mesh underneath them. Threatening to cut into their battered frame.

_ They cried out as the Overseer started pounding them.  With fists. Feet. Throat choked until their vocalizer cracked.  Thrown against the wall…. _

There was a swaying motion.  A sensation of a constant upward draft.

_ A sickening crack, all sensation, feeling leaving the lower half of their body. _

They knew where they were and opening their pale blue optics only confirmed it.

_ “Oh dear...Gravel won’t be able to fix tha’!”  Stormburst was laughing. “To the Proving Cage for you!” _

How long have they been in here?

_ “You deserve a better life than this, Silky…” _  Wheeljack’s voice echoed in their processor.

They shifted, staticy sobs emitting from their damaged vocalizer.

_ I should have gone with you…. _

That chance for a better life was lost.  At least for them. For others though, there was still a chance, so long as Wheeljack made it to the Wreckers.  For them, death was inevitable.

_ Is it? _

It dawned on them.  Something wasn’t right.  The draft...they could feel it all over when they shouldn’t.  Their legs….

They looked back at their legs and attempted to move them.

They moved!

_ I...I’m not paralyzed? _

Were they dreaming?  They were certain Stormburst broke their spinal strut.  Testing their legs further only confirmed that they had both movement and feeling in them.  There was some numbness and the spot where their spine was broken hurt like the Pit, but they could move!

If they can move their legs...can they stand?

It hurt to move, more so due to their other injuries, but slowly, carefully, they pulled themselves into a sitting position.  Then, using the side of the cage for support, they stood up.

They felt elation!  Death will not claim them this cycle!  But what now? What would their status be after this?  Best to just bide their time until Wheeljack comes back to rescue them.

_ Wheeljack won’t recognize me… _

The realization hit them hard, one hand touching where their damaged vocalizer sat.  They never told Wheeljack their name...never allowed him to see them. They would be just another Siren to him if they did see him again  It was highly likely the circumstances of those meetings would not be favorable for long talks trying to convince him of their identity.

_ I have lost you...and you lost me...yet we both still live…. _

Perhaps it was better that way.  They knew Stormburst intended to tell Wheeljack of their fate when he found him.  That likely happened by now. For all Wheeljack will know, they were dead. Which, they knew, would fuel his rage against this tribe.

Let him.

They didn’t care about this tribe anymore.  A tribe they once called home. Family. They could all go to the Pit, especially that slagger Stormburst.  And they intend to help them do it, somehow. They just needed to figure out how.

But first, they needed to ‘prove’ to their ‘people’ that Primus wasn’t ready for them yet.

Time was of the essence.  Stormburst could return at anytime now.  There was the chance the Overseer would open the bottom of the cage and send them to their death anyway out of spite.

_ Out...need to get out. _

They looked up and optics narrowed at the access hatch at the top.  It wasn’t locked, they knew, because everyone put in here are too sick or injured to reach it.  That wasn’t the case with them now.

They just had to reach it.

Reaching up as high as they could, they gripped part of the mesh that made up the cage wall.  Slowly, wincing in pain as they did so, they lifted their left leg as high as they could to step up on wall mesh.  Then they repeated it with the other one, though this one they noticed was weaker than the other. Still, slowly, but surely, they climbed up the cage wall.

_ Almost there. _

The mesh was starting to cut into their hands and feet.  Small amounts of energon starting to bleed from the wounds.

_ Almost there! _

Voices approaching.  The access hatch was within reach. They punched it open.

“Did you hear that?”

Pit, that was Steelstone.

_ Hurry! _

They gripped the rim of the open hatch and started pulling themselves up.

“Primus….”

Was that the Chief!?  That only fueled their determination to get out.  Nanos later, they were on top of the cage.

“How did they….”  Steelstone again. He sounded shocked.  “Stormburst said….”

“Overseer…Chief….,”  they growled, their voice no longer sounding smooth and soft like silk, but rough and grainy like sandpaper.  Unsteadily, they rose to their feet, gripping the main support cable to steady themselves. “I have passed the Tes’ of Primus.”

“So you have, Starsong,”  Chief Cliffwing stated, awestruck.  “So you have….”

Starsong, a silver bot with red accents, smirked.

They may never get to be with Wheeljack again, but the look on Stormburst’s face when he sees them will be worth that sacrifice.

 

~Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have plans for more stories connected to this one. So keep watch!

**Author's Note:**

> Will update on Weds and Sun.


End file.
